


Your Heart Understood Mine

by secondstar



Series: take things slow as we may bruise [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Aftercare, BDSM, Bondage, Established Relationship, Face-Fucking, Fingerfucking, Future Fic, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Praise Kink, Rimming, Safe Sane and Consensual, Sex Toys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-27
Updated: 2014-01-27
Packaged: 2018-01-10 04:59:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1155384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/secondstar/pseuds/secondstar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first time they had used the coffee table, but it hadn’t been good on Derek’s knees for that long. The next session had been on the kitchen table, but it had been too wide. Derek went out and bought a sturdy end table, one used for pictures behind couches, that was wide enough for Stiles’ broad shoulders, long enough for his torso. It was perfect for him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Your Heart Understood Mine

**Author's Note:**

  * For [blacktofade](https://archiveofourown.org/users/blacktofade/gifts).



> beta'd by bk, lauren, mel, and beth.  
> i love you guys. 
> 
> this? this is the first part in a series i want to write about Stiles and Derek in a domestic, established bdsm realtionship. 
> 
> please let me know if i haven't tagged anything correctly, or left something out that needs to be tagged.

Everything about the scene makes Derek hard. The way he has Stiles spread, his hands tied to the table, his cock angled down so he can get to it and watch as precome drips onto the tiled floor, pooling slowly as time passes. With the lights turned down and music on, Derek sets up everything that he needs on a side table. Stiles is quiet, with his cheek pressed against the table, his mouth hanging open as his muscles flex over the expanse of his back. Dotted with moles, marked by Derek’s mouth from countless sessions, Stiles’ body is Derek’s Elysium, where he finds peace. 

Derek pauses in his preparations in order to touch, to run his fingers through Stiles’ hair. Stiles shuts his eyes slowly, lets out a sigh of contentment as his hands grip tight to the table legs. 

“You okay?” Derek asks him as his fingers trail down Stiles’ back, smoothing across the expanse until they reach his ass. Stiles nods his head, his knees shifting on their makeshift ledges. This isn’t the first time Derek has had Stiles spread out before him, and it wouldn’t be the last. They have a system, a mismatched way of piling their things together to make it easy on both Stiles’ body in the long run, and for Derek’s height. 

The first time they had used the coffee table, but it hadn’t been good on Derek’s knees for that long. The next session had been on the kitchen table, but it had been too wide. Derek went out and bought a sturdy end table, one used for pictures behind couches, that was wide enough for Stiles’ broad shoulders, long enough for his torso. It was perfect for him. Derek’s favorite thing was when they had company over, when it was hidden in plain sight for all to see. No one knew what the table’s use was really for. 

Derek bends over, his breath hot against Stiles’ ear as his lips catch on it, his tongue licking a stripe just behind it as a finger slips between the cheeks of Stiles’ ass. Stiles doesn’t move, but Derek can tell that he wants to roll his hips back, for there to be more pressure. Derek stills his movements, hovering over Stiles for a moment. 

“Are you ready?” Derek asks him. 

“Yes,” Stiles replies, his eyes opening, watching as Derek backs away from him, all contact gone. “Green,” Stiles adds as Derek walks around the table, continuing to ready everything. He sets the lube in place, the freshly cleaned toys, his gloves. His fingers run over the black cock ring before he picks it up. He already has one on himself, he needs to last, but it’s his job to put it on Stiles as well. 

It’s a simple ring, circular and black, that he slides onto Stiles. He’s not hard, not yet, and it goes on easily. Before stepping away from him once more, Derek taps Stiles’ ass lightly, watching it move. It hadn’t been in Derek’s plan to taste him, but in staring down at Stiles’ spread ass Derek couldn’t help but want to lick. Derek bends down as his thumb runs from the top of Stiles’ cleft all the way down past his balls, to the tip of his cock. The noise that escapes from Stiles’ mouth has Derek grinning as he closes his eyes, licking up the same trail he just laid with his thumb. Stiles cries out as Derek’s tongue probes, darting in and out. Derek’s stubble rubs against Stiles’ cheeks, reddening them as he buries his tongue in as deep as it can go using his hands to spread Stiles’ cheeks wider, giving him space to delve into him. 

Stiles’ whimpering, his constant noises, makes blood flow straight to Derek’s dick as he stands up. He’s wearing jeans, because he likes the press of his erection against the fabric, likes how unbearable it becomes as the time passes. Derek is barefoot, the cool tile feeling good against the bottom of his feet as he moves. He starts off wearing a tank top, though he knows he will toss it at some point. Derek likes the thought of Stiles completely bare before him while he remains fully clothed. 

Before him lay an array of toys. He and Stiles together have been slowly working their way up in the sizes of their toys, starting out small, thin until they were ready for the next size up. Today is no different as Derek’s gaze casts over the toys he readied earlier before he bound Stiles. Various sizes of anal plugs, beads, dildos, and a pump are all at the ready for Derek’s use. First, though, he wants to start with his own fingers, to feel the stretch. 

Derek hums along quietly to the music as he grabs a pair of black gloves from the box, pulling them on. The box itself is half empty, showing just how often Derek gets to touch Stiles, spread him open. Stiles, too, often gets his chance, but not today. This is about Stiles, not Derek. It is about him taking care of Stiles, and bringing him pleasure.

Pumping twice on the lube, Derek smears it between three fingers, warming it slightly before applying it. He concentrates, his face relaxing as he swipes his fingers over Stiles’ ass, teasing him. Stiles shifts, his toes curling momentarily as he breathes out. Derek waits until Stiles relaxes, a hand on the base of Stiles’ back, his fingers caressing him as he pushes a finger in, twisting it slowly. 

“Ah,” Stiles lets escape before he rakes his teeth over his lips, his eyes closing. Derek’s finger moves relentlessly, smearing the lube around his opening, spreading it. Red and swollen, Stiles’ ass makes Derek groan as he swallows, his mouth watering to the point of needing to do so. Derek retracts his finger in order to pump more onto his hand. This time, he presses two in, swirling them around Stiles’ opening beforehand, massaging him open. Stiles spreads his legs farther, or at least he tries to while they are bound, keeping him apart. 

“You feel so good,” Derek says, breaking the silence. The music is low, more for background, something for Stiles to concentrate on as Derek takes his time. “You ready for more?” Derek asks. 

“Yeah,” Stiles says breathlessly. He doesn’t have a sheen of sweat covering him, yet. That comes later. He is hard, now, though, so before Derek pulls away completely he gives Stiles a few downward strokes, his thumb teasing at the head of Stiles’ cock, smearing lube over it. Derek fondles Stiles’ balls, pinching the sensitive skin. “Shit,” Stiles says and Derek can hear the table squeaking at the sudden movement Stiles makes, his fingers gripping tighter to the table legs. It isn’t something Derek does often, but he knows Stiles likes it in moderation. Derek likes it more, when Stiles grabs hold of him, tugging, sending that pleasurable pain coursing through his body. 

Derek massages Stiles’ balls between his fingers in an apology, his mouth coming down, teeth grabbing hold of the meat of Stiles’ ass, sucking before releasing it. Stiles’ ass jiggles as he backs away. Teeth marks remain, red against pale skin that matches Stiles’ slick hole. 

“Color?” Derek asks, his attention on Stiles’ face, eyes searching him for any sign of discomfort or pain. 

“Green,” Stiles says. His lips are red, chapped from biting down on them. Derek usually makes sure that Stiles put chapstick on before they started, but he hadn’t this time; it slipped his mind. 

“Do you need water?” Derek asks, as he palms at Stiles’ ass, his fingers slipping between his cheeks. 

“No,” Stiles answers as he licks his lips again out of habit. Derek takes that as permission to continue. His cock is heavy between his legs as he looks over their various toys. His eyes land on a small glass dildo, its width about the size of two of his fingers pressed together. Derek hums aloud, contemplating that or the beads. He glances at Stiles, who is waiting patiently for him to decide. 

Derek picks up the beads, balls set apart by string that clack together as Derek handles them. He can see Stiles craning his neck, his body twisting as he tries to see which toy Derek picked. Part of him wants to be childish, to turn so Stiles’ view is obstructed, but he refrains. He holds on to one of the balls, letting the others drop in a line. Stiles’ face visibly flushes as he sees the toy, his toes curling at the anticipation of them inside of him. His ass, too, distinctly clenches before Derek’s eyes. It makes Derek smile to himself as he pumps lube into his hand, covering the first round bead with the slick substance. 

Derek wets his lips, his mouth hanging open as he steps towards Stiles with the toy. With his free hand, he rubs his thumb across Stiles' hole, pushing it in and out, reveling in the tight heat of him. Stiles lets out a choked sob as his feet flex and bend: the only movement they are able to do. As Derek removes his thumb, he replaces it with the first bead, it doesn't go in as easily as his thumb, or his fingers, but the lube helps it disappear into Stiles' ass. When it does, Stiles gasps. 

"Fuck," he mumbles as Derek's hand caresses his ass, his lower back in admiration and reverence. The bead is gone, the only part visible is the string that connects it to the next bead. Stiles is panting as Derek just stares, unmoving. He wants to take in the sight of it all. 

"Derek," Stiles says, getting Derek's attention. 

"Yeah," Derek says, his voice a little more rough than it normally is. He doesn't like to be rushed, so he grabs hold of Stiles' ass with one hand while the other teases at Stiles' head, giving small circling strokes on just the tip. Stiles squirms beneath his grip in pleasurable agony. "I love it when you can't sit still."

Stiles lets out a muffled noise as precome drips from his cock. Derek can practically taste it on his lips, despite the fact he didn't catch it in time. As it hits the floor, Derek's mouth waters. There will be time for that later. He slicks up the second bead, then pushes it in as well, filling Stiles more, stretching him. This time once it's in, Derek doesn't hesitate before he slips in the third. When he's done, he taps his fingers against Stiles' reddened, full ass. Stiles yelps, groaning as Derek disposes of the gloves. 

He walks away, then, but not before running his fingers through Stiles' damp hair. Stiles can see his every movement as he walks into the kitchen, grabbing a water from the fridge. He brings it to Stiles as he twists the top open, first grabbing a straw from a drawer by the sink. He slinks the straw into the bottle, then squats by Stiles' head, offering him the drink. Stiles takes it readily, sucking in the refreshment. His eyes close as Derek returns his fingers to Stiles' hair, then his cheek. 

"You're doing so well," Derek tells him as Stiles lets go of the straw, sighing as his eyes find Derek's. "Tell me how you're doing."

"Green," Stiles says. As Derek stands, he kisses Stiles' forehead. If he wanted to kiss his mouth, he'd have to brush his teeth first, gargle mouthwash. Ass to mouth isn't something that Stiles is into. Derek grabs another pair of gloves, snapping them on his wrists once they're on. It helps Stiles know when Derek is ready when he does it. 

"Ready?" Derek asks, his hands once more on Stiles' ass, fingers kneading into the flesh. 

"Yes," Stiles says a little louder than need be, he gets louder the more he wants it, needs more. Derek won't deny him his satisfaction any longer. The only visible part to the toy is a ring, pulled taut against Stiles' ass. Derek fingers it, pulling on it slowly. With his eyes glued to the sight, he sees Stiles' ass open for him, revealing the first bead. As it pops out, Stiles shudders, crying out. Derek waits, then, for Stiles to calm down, his hands never stilling as he massages his entrance, stroking Stiles' cock, or smoothing across his ass. Once Stiles' breathing evens out, Derek begins retrieving the second bead, taking his time as he watches it appear. This time, Stiles' ass clenches as he tries to move, his entire bottom half making an effort to free itself. 

"Fuck," Stiles says. "Fuck."

"Green?" Derek asks, his hand firm on Stiles' back. Stiles nods at him. Derek can hear his heartbeat, can hear the strain of the fabric he used to bind Stiles' wrists to the table. 

"Green," Stiles says in an almost scream. "It's intense as fuck," he tells Derek, breathless. "Just- can you-"

Derek doesn't want to send Stiles over the edge just yet, so he goes ahead and pulls out the last bead, sending Stiles into another fit of ecstasy. 

He lets Stiles ride out the feelings of intensity as he readies the next toy. Its an anal plug, black and sleak. Medium-sized, it will stretch Stiles, fill him up. Beside it on the table is the next size up, one that they haven't used before. Derek eyes it, wondering if Stiles will be ready for it by the end of the night. 

He gives Stiles more water, letting him finish the bottle before tossing it into the recycling bin. Derek takes his time lubing up the butt plug before he presses the tip of it inward. It tapers, stretching Stiles slowly as it goes in. About halfway up the taper, Stiles starts breathing heavier as he lets out a cacophony of noises, all of which are incoherent and unintelligible words. As the plug bottoms out, Stiles makes a whimpering noise. Derek loves that he is so receptive, sensitive to everything that Derek does to him. It sends a fresh wave of pure want throughout Derek's body, ending at his neglected cock. 

Derek rids himself of the gloves once more, this time carding his fingers through his own hair before he takes off his tank top. He slides his fingers over his chest, pinching his pierced nipple as he cups himself, rubbing himself off against the fabric. Stiles' eyes watch Derek as he walks towards him, whose pupils are blown, his face tinged red, splotchy. Stiles' eyes cast downward as he watches Derek unclasp the button on his jeans, then undo the zipper. Stiles' mouth is open, waiting for Derek's cock as he takes it into his own hand, stroking it. He steps forward, brushing the head of it against Stiles' lips as he pumps it. Stiles' tongue sticks out, licking at it as best he can before Derek allows Stiles to take it into his mouth. Stiles' warm, wet mouth feels like heaven to Derek as it engulfs him. Derek moans as he places a hand behind Stiles' head, keeping him still as Derek fucks into Stiles' mouth shallowly at first, gradually going deeper and deeper. 

The way Stiles is lying, with his cheek against the table, isn't conducive to face-fucking, but Derek makes do. It's more his kink than Stiles', anyways. One of his favorite positions is on his back, facing the foot of the bed while Stiles stands on the floor and fucks his face. The mere thought of it has Derek groaning, his thumb pressing against Stiles' cheek so he can feel the movement of his cock in Stiles' mouth. The cock ring around his cock make his blood pound within it, giving him more urgency to his thrusts. With tears in his eyes, Stiles blinks rapidly three times, letting Derek know to back up. 

Derek does immediately, allowing Stiles time to breathe, to cough as he gasps for air. As he lets Stiles do that, Derek reaches across the table and taps the butt plug, making Stiles buck forward. He moans, unable to hold back. 

"You want more? Or are you ready for me to continue?" Derek asks. This wasn't for him, after all. This is about Stiles, making him feel good, feel loved. Derek knew he would come, eventually. There wasn't any rush. 

"Continue," Stiles tells him. Derek tucks himself away, then cleans Stiles' mouth with his thumb, wiping away spit and precome. Stiles nips at his thumb playfully, reminding Derek how Stiles' teeth feel against his skin. Another night, Derek tells himself. Stiles' teeth will be all over him another night. 

A new pair of gloves go on, and Derek is ready to make Stiles come. He strokes him, twisting his wrist as he does so with one of his hands, while the other grabs hold of the plug, slowly turning it around, then pulling it out. Stiles' hips roll as much as they can as he screams out. Derek begins to fuck Stiles with it, pressing the plug in and out again, just before it bottoms out. 

"Fuck, fuck me, shit," Stiles says, unable to stop the litany of curse words falling from his lips. Derek quickens his pace of his strokes, jacking Stiles off just the way he likes. Stiles goes from letting precome drip freely from his cock to coming completely within the blink of an eye. The cock ring held him off for this long, and now his mess on the floor let Derek know just how much he enjoyed it. Derek retracts the butt plug, setting it aside as he watches Stiles' hole twitch and contract until it slowly closes. Derek massages it, spreading Stiles' cheeks with two fingers, taking care not to overstimulate him. 

"If only you could see what I can," Derek says, his voice quiet, adorningly so. 

"I can imagine," Stiles says with a shaky breath. 

"Are you done?" Derek asks, fully ready to unbind him, paying no mind to the larger, unused anal plug. 

"No, I'm green," Stiles says more coherently than he sounded moments before. "Fuck me, please." 

Derek couldn't deny him, not with the uptick of his heartbeat, how deep his voice sounded, so fucked out. Derek's cock agrees with the suggestion. Derek picks up the condom, holding onto an edge of it with his gloves as he puts it up to Stiles' mouth. Stiles tears it with precision, his teeth holding tight as Derek pulls. Expertly, Derek places the condom on Stiles' mouth. His cock glides in as Stiles sucks in gently, rolling the condom on. It is no easy feat, but after one night and almost an entire box of condoms, they got the hang of it. It comes in handy with tied limbs and lube slicked fingers.

There is no need for more lube, Derek decides when he sees the mess not only surrounding Stiles' ass, but also on the floor. His balls and dick are also covered in it, slimy and ready for Derek to slide in without any hesitation. Derek grabs hold of Stiles' waist as he thrusts inwards. The noise of skin against skin, of Stiles' shouts, drown out all thoughts as Derek fucks him. With his pace quick and brutal, Derek doesn't last long, but it doesn't matter. Stiles doesn't have the stamina for much more, he just wanted the feel of Derek inside of him. Derek comes inside of him, the condom catching his mess readily. 

When he pulls out, he rids himself of the gloves and the condom. He grabs another bottle of water, finishing half of it himself before putting a straw in it for Stiles to finish it. Derek grabs a wash cloth, dampened, to wipe Stiles' brow, then his ass.  
"How are you feeling?" Derek asks, his fingers in Stiles' hair, tugging at it to rouse him. Stiles had drifted off between Derek coming in him and cleaning up. Lazily, Stiles' eyes open. "Do you want this to be over?" Derek asks. 

"New toy," Stiles pouts. Derek looks to the clock, wondering if he should veto it due to the time. "Come on, Der," he goads. Derek doesn’t back down from the challenge. 

Before continuing, Derek checks Stiles' hands, his feet, making sure they weren't changing colors, that he's doing okay. Derek knows how well pain can be masked while in a scene, how you sometimes can't tell. He tries to make sure Stiles is never hurt, more so than himself. He knows he'll heal quickly. Stiles, on the other hand, does not. 

New toy, new gloves, but first Derek rights himself, tucking his limp, spent dick back into his jeans. Stiles is silent, with his eyes closed, as Derek sets up the last toy; never before used on either of them. Before Derek presses it against Stiles' opening, he tests the area with his fingers, dipping them into the loose flesh. Stiles hisses out a moan; he's tender, but wants it. It will be a stretch, but that is the whole point of this. 

Derek nudges the toy against Stiles' ass, twisting it as he pushes in shallowly, then retracts it just to turn around and do the same thing, inching it in. He gets far with it, almost getting the entire toy in before he pulls back. 

Stiles lets out a noise of protest, his neck craning back in order to see why Derek stopped. It’s simple, really. Derek wants to feel Stiles spread wide, open for him. Derek slips three fingers in easily, fucking Stiles with them before sliding his pinky in as well. Four fingers, and Derek swears under his breath as Stiles takes them all. Derek tucks his thumb beneath his fingers, then adds it as well, making Stiles gasp at the size. Stiles is so open for him, so willing and pliant beneath his fingers that Derek can feel his cock hardening once more. 

Once Derek brushes his knuckles against Stiles, he pulls back. They didn’t discuss fisting beforehand, that isn’t part of the scene they were playing out. The thought hangs in Derek’s mind, though, as he grabs the plug once more. It takes some time before Derek manages to get it all the way in, until it’s filling Stiles completely, more than anything has ever done before. He’s panting open-mouthed as Derek twists it slightly inside of him.

“Stop,” Stiles says. “Yellow.”

“Do you want it-”

“No,” Stiles tells him, “ I just- don’t move it.” Derek does as Stiles asks. He leaves it there, letting Stiles get used to the feel of it, the weight and the pressure. 

“Let me know,” Derek says as he watches Stiles, the look of him being stretched open so implicitly has him on edge. Stiles is half-hard, his cock clearly enjoying everything Stiles has been going through. “Do you want me to touch you?” Derek asks. 

“Jack me slowly,” Stiles pleads. “Without the ring.” Derek complies, snapping the ring off of him before he takes him with both hands, one rolling his balls as the other strokes downward at a snail’s pace, ringing his orgasm out of him. Stiles closes his eyes again, licking his lips as Derek works him. Once Stiles is fully hard, Derek’s grip tightens slightly, his wrist twisting as his pace quickens. He watches Stiles’ feet as his toes curl. 

There is a mess on the floor, lube and come mixed together, that Derek will have to clean up later. One day he will remember plastic sheeting, but today was not that day. He laughs to himself because in his mind he can hear Stiles making a joke about Dexter if Derek were to lay out plastic before a scene. 

“‘s so funny?” Stiles asks, his voice past gone. He’s just about spent, Derek knows. 

“Just thinking about you,” Derek tells him as he concentrates his movements on Stiles’ head, jerking him faster. Stiles trembles as he comes, this time not as much as the first, understandably. 

“Fuck, you look amazing.”

“You,” Stiles says, but doesn’t finish as his body goes limp. 

“Time to take this out, okay?” Derek says. Stiles nods his head as Derek places one hand on his lower back, while the other grabs hold of the toy. 

“Jesus mother fucking-” Stiles chokes out as Derek pulls it out, leaving Stiles open, gaping. 

“Fuck,” Derek says, his eyes fixed on Stiles’ ass as he watches it slowly close. He wants to touch, to fuck Stiles with his fingers again but knows the scene is over. There will be another time for that. 

First, Derek disposes of the gloves, then he grabs water for Stiles, his lips pressing against Stiles’ forehead as he unties Stiles wrists, then his feet. As Stiles gets his bearings, Derek leaves the room, but only for a moment, to turn on the water in the bathroom for a shower. 

By the time he comes back out to the living room, Stiles is on his feet but leaning against the table. As Derek approaches, Stiles puts his arms out so Derek can envelop him in a hug. With Stiles’ arms around him, Derek buries his face against Stiles’ neck, breathing him in. Aftercare is just as important, if not more so than the scene itself. 

Stiles is petting Derek’s hair idly as they stand there. The water is ready for them, but Derek isn’t ready to let Stiles go just yet. He decides to shower him with kisses first, starting with his neck, then working his way up to his chin, then his cheeks, avoiding his mouth. Stiles leans against him, his fingers scratching across Derek’s back. 

“You did so well,” Derek praises as he makes his way towards the bathroom, pulling Stiles along with him. “You just- fucking- love you-”

Stiles smiles against Derek’s kisses, his own fingers working open Derek’s jeans once more, shoving them down his thighs once they are in the bathroom. Them showering together is part of their ritual, as long as both of them can stand. If not, its lying in the bathtub together. 

“Shower or tub?” Derek asks, in case Stiles doesn’t want to stand.  
“Tub,” he says. Derek switches the spray over so that it begins to fill the tub up with hot water. Derek takes off his cock ring as they wait. Stiles’ hands don’t leave his body, though. They need constant contact after a scene. Derek wets a washcloth in the sink, then carefully cleans Stiles off, wiping down his ass before they get in the tub. 

He turns off the water, then gets in first so Stiles can lie down on top of him, his back to Derek’s chest. The water gets dangerously close to the edge of the tub, but Derek knows they’ll be fine as long as they don’t splash around too much. 

Stiles rests his head against Derek’s shoulder, a smile on his face as he turns his face towards Derek’s so he can look him in the eye. 

“You always take care of me,” he says, his voice wrecked. Derek gives him a small smile as he wraps his arms around Stiles, resting his hands on his chest and stomach. Stiles’ fingers intertwine with Derek’s easily. 

“We take care of each other,” Derek says honestly. “I don’t want this with anyone else.” 

Stiles sighs outwardly, his eyes closing momentarily before opening once more. 

“Just us,” Stiles says on an exhale as he starts drifting off, feeling safe in Derek’s arms. 

“Just us,” Derek answers.


End file.
